On The Road
by Coca-Cola
Summary: AU- In 1593 Buffy Summers and her company are on the way to stay with friends of her fathers in England when they are ambushed on the road by the infamous highwayman William the Bloody, better known as Spike. S/B. Please R&R! New chappy up!
1. Leaving

****

Disclaimer: "No!!!!!" I screamed as the police dragged me away. "I own them! They're all mine!!!!!!" That's when I saw Joss Whedon standing over me pointing his finger. "That's her! Coca-Cola stole all my characters and wrote some twisted bullshit involving them!" He accused. That's when I woke up in bed, my sheets all twisted. "All a dream," I thought. "At least I know all characters from BtVS belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy…."

Rating: PG-13

Summary: AU- In 1593 Buffy Summers and her company are on the way to stay with friends of her fathers in England when they are ambushed on the road by the infamous highwayman William the Bloody, better known as Spike. 

A/N: This mostly takes place in 16th Century Britain, because I have no idea what America was like then, so work with me here. Also, this chapter is basically an introduction to the story, so sorry if it's too long and boring. Spike will make his entrance later, and don't worry, Xander will be included next chapter!

*****

"Take care, darling," Hank Summers kissed his daughter's cheek as she stepped up onto the boat. She responded only with a glare. Elizabeth 'Buffy' Summers did _not_ appreciate being sent off to stay with some stuffy friends of her fathers in England to look for a potential husband. She highly resented her father's interest in finding her a rich young man to marry and she was making damn sure he knew it. 

Hank Summers sighed. His daughter was beautiful, with hair like spun gold and bright hazel eyes that could look right you. She also had a fiery temper.

"Oh, come on now, darling. Don't look like that. Don't you want a husband?" Hank asked as if there were nothing else in the world she could want more. Buffy shot him a frosty look and said nothing. 

"Now, Elizabeth-" Hank began crossly, but his daughter interrupted furiously.

"It's _Buffy_" She hissed. Hank looked desperately at her. 

"Buffy, sorry…" He paused then sighed. There was no point in continuing. She knew what he had to say. It was an argument they had been having for over two months now, from the moment Hank had announced she was so go to Britain to stay with his good friend Wesley Wyndham-Price over the summer months and find herself a rich English gentleman to marry. The only reason Hank had managed to get her this far without physically lifting her up and carrying her onto the boat was the promised accompaniment of her best friend, Willow Rosenberg, who had looked upon the whole trip as a major adventure from the moment she had heard about it. 

"Just think, Buffy," the red head had said excitedly. "A whole summer spent abroad, we'll have a wonderful time…" Buffy, however, couldn't agree. 

She stood stiffly by the rail of the ship as Willow clambered in beside her, followed by Willow's sweetheart Daniel Osbourne, better known as Oz. He was accompanying them at Hank's request, as two young ladies couldn't possibly make the journey to England alone. Oz was more than content to come along; he would have followed Willow anywhere. Buffy sighed.

There were too many reasons why she wished she could stay. First and foremost, Buffy had determined from the very start that if and when she married, it would be for love, and love only. No amount of respected names, wealth and power could change her mind. 

The second was she felt disgusted at being bartered like a joint of meat solely for her father to gain more money, and although he fretted and was cross about it, she knew he knew she was right, and the thought sickened her. 

The third and final reason came in the shape of one extremely handsome, well-off young gentleman of the area, a Mr. Liam Angelus. Refusing to use his first name and known around town only as Angel, his dark hair and deep brown eyes had captured the heart of almost every girl in the area as soon as stepped foot in the town over a year ago, and Buffy was one of them. 

Angel. She had thought of no-one else since she had first laid eyes on him, and harboured a passion for him that had not relented in the time she had known him. He became on of Hank's business acquaintances, and so came to the house fairly often. Buffy fantasized he came especially to see her, and made sure she always knew about his visits in advance to give herself time to prepare. 

Willow had thought, and still did, that she was mad. From the moment he had arrived Angel had made it clear he was courting the beautiful Darla Adams, and thought the relationship was stormy, and the town was constantly buzzing with gossip about the two of them, they had persevered, and were now engaged.

This had not deterred Buffy, but now she was heading abroad for a period of three months, and Angel would forget all about her. She did not remind herself there was no reason he had to remember her, other than another of his adoring admirers.

Buffy was brought back to earth by the sound of the ship's horn blaring, and she watched Hank step back ashore and begin waving as they pulled away. Suddenly, as they began to drift away, Buffy felt something she hadn't previously thought about strike a pang in her heart, and as Willow leaped up and down waving, and Oz smiled at her antics, Buffy felt tears pricking her eyes and realised she was going to homesick. 


	2. Sailing, Killing

__

Flashback: 1582

Elizabeth was bored. She was being dragged along on an outing with her parents and several other families, but unfortunately, Willow and her parents were not among them. Seven years old and nothing to do…

Her main source of discontent was the fact that all the children around were either too young and hanging on to their mothers, or too grown-up to bother with a younger girl like her. She sighed emphatically, hoping that one of the older children might take interest in her….no such luck. 

As the outing continued, the party stopped in a picturesque spot by a riverbank to rest, with long weeping willows trailing into the water and soft ripples generated by the pebbles thrown into the water by the young gentlemen and older boys. 

Elizabeth looked on in scorn. Now completely fed up with the lack of activity, Elizabeth began to wander further away from the party. Singing softly to herself, she drifted off into a world of her own…

"Ouch!" Elizabeth was jolted out of her contemplation somewhat roughly as a boy perhaps her age, perhaps a year older charged right into her. She found herself sitting on the ground and blinked in surprise. He had knocked her right over. 

Stunned but not hurt, Elizabeth did not cry. She looked up at the boy and found him staring rather anxiously down at her, chewing the nails of one hand apprehensively with the other stuffed into his pocket. On further inspection, she noted he appeared to be rather dirty, and must have been a working boy or the son of a labourer, judging by his longish, roughly cut hair, coarse, unrefined shirt, ragged waistcoat, and torn, ripped trousers. He was barefoot, as were many of his sort, and he looked out at her from his dishevelled locks with wide, soft brown eyes. 

Shaking out her long golden curls as she picked herself up, Elizabeth dusted off her new blue dress and looked right back at the boy as he continued to stare.

"I'm all right," She finally addressed him. He blinked, as if he hadn't expected to be spoken to. 

"Sorry," He mumbled. She gave him a reassuring smile and all of a sudden he returned it with the widest and most friendly grin Elizabeth had ever seen. 

"I'm Alexander." He said. 

"My name's Elizabeth Summers," returned she. 

"Everyone calls me Xander," the boy added, as an afterthought. Elizabeth stared wide eyed. No one had ever called her anything but her given name. To her, it seemed impossibly grown-up to be called something else. Not to be outdone, she thought quickly.

"Everyone calls me…" Elizabeth scanned the forested area in which they stood, her eyes skipping over bright flowers, soft grass, and the fluffy pollen spheres floating around…That was it. Fluffy. That would do, she thought, her mind racing. 

"Fluffy," the newly christened Fluffy announced. Xander frowned, cocking his head to one side like a puzzled puppy. He scratched his ear as if he had not heard right.

"Did you say…Buffy?"

Buffy sighed. Out on the deck a sharp breath of wind whipped her hair unceremoniously up around her face and stung her eyes, and she fought to keep her skirts down as the boat plunged down once more into the crevice of a wave. As they rose on the crest of the next, Buffy reflected that she would miss Xander more than her father and Angel put together. And she hadn't even seen him about the town to say goodbye.

Although Willow and Buffy were both rich young ladies of noble birth, the fact that Xander Harris was a common labouring boy had never, not in all their years together, deterred either of them from keeping his company. He was scruffy and poor, but he you couldn't have found a more entertaining and amusing boy anywhere, and both girls were never in doubt of his heart of gold. 

Consistently unlucky in love, Xander had courted several girls and always seemed to find himself in trouble. His one serious relationship had been with a noblewoman named Cordelia Chase, a 'friend', if she could be called that, of Buffy and Willow. Cordelia had given up her dignity, class and reputation to step out with Xander, her first act of selflessness, but the relationship had collapsed when she had discovered him kissing Willow. The two betrayers (Willow was stepping out with Oz at the time) had not been in love, and after being discovered they split up. Cordelia reverted to type, Willow got engaged to Oz, and Xander was once again left to himself. 

Not that he was bad looking. 

__

He just needs to find the right girl, Buffy pondered the thought.

It was while Buffy was thinking about Xander that she felt a hand reach out and tap her shoulder. Not expecting it, she jumped and shrieked. 

Willow stepped back, eyes wide. Buffy sighed and relaxed, and Willow began to laugh. Oz stood beside her, smiling.

"It's not funny Will. I could have fallen overboard!" Buffy dramatized. Willow raised an eyebrow in a way that clearly said 'of course…not'. She shook her head and grinned.

"I had to find you. You'll never guess who's on board the ship!" Buffy shrugged, uninterested. Willow smiled even wider, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Forgoing his trade of bakery, leaving behind his work as a labourer, and becoming the greatest sailor time has ever known, in his own words at least, is….Xander Harris!" She announced. Buffy stared in disbelief. 

__

Talk about coincidence…she mused. Then she allowed the news to sink in, and grinning, demanded his whereabouts. 

"Working in the kitchen at the moment." Oz dropped in. Being the only men in their group, Oz and Xander were great friends. 

"I saw him earlier, but he hasn't had a chance to speak to use or explain how he got here because they're working him so hard. Also…" Willow continued, smiling. "He's falling in love with the cook's daughter, Anya. Have you seen her? She's doing maid work on the ship, until we get to England."

"I've seen her," Buffy nodded, remembering seeing the girl who had been cleaning the cabins that morning. "She's very pretty. I hope she doesn't break our boy's heart!" 

The two girls laughed, and Buffy had to admit, free of her parents, with her best friends by her side, a summer abroad wasn't starting to look so bad after all.

* * * *

At the same time Buffy and her friends were laughing on the ship, a man was getting robbed in the outskirts of London. 

His carriage was bumping steadily along the London Road, one of many that led into the vast capital. It was late evening, and the road was deserted. Either side of the track, tall threatening trees loomed over head, and grew blacker as the daylight faded. 

The driver whistled a tune to himself as he flicked the horses with his whip. Under his seat, a loaded blunderbuss lay for protection. These roads were not safe, especially not at night. Thieves, beggars, and tramps worked the roads, looking for whatever they could make off with. 

And the most dreaded of them all, the highwaymen, those that were fearless, carrying pistols, blunderbusses, swords, and flanked by gangs of others who surrounded you silently, without you even realising. 

As the man travelling in the carriage was soon to realise. 

"Stand and deliver!" A clear voice rang out, over the crunching of wheels on the ground, and putting a sharp end to the driver's whistling. The passenger's breath stopped short with shock. A fear so deep and penetrating to be called horror flooded his heart, and he gripped the side of the carriage until his knuckles stood out violently white against the red of his fingers. 

"Your money or your life," The highwayman called again, in the time honoured phrase of those like him.

There was silence for a moment. Then-

"I warn you, I'm armed!" The driver had to be admired for his courage, but it did nothing. There was laughter, highly amused, deep and daunting...

"So am I," The voice smirked, and then all the passenger heard was his driver's sharp intake of breath a split-second before a deafening bang rocked him to the core. 

A moment later, the highwayman's voice found it's way back to the man's ringing ears.

"….get out. Keep you hands where I can see them and bring your money with you,". 

Shaking, the man stepped out. He couldn't look anywhere but at the ground as he kept his hands above his head, and he thought, although he couldn't be sure in the rapidly disappearing light, that there were shadows flittering here and there in the trees. The highwayman's gang. 

He heard a soft clink as the man who'd held him up dropped down from his horse. For the first time, he raised his eyes to his attacker. 

He saw a man, slimmer and more languid than he would have expected, standing by an intimidating black stallion. The horse was well bred, and had without a doubt been stolen. 

The man himself made a striking picture, despite his slender physique. His hair was so blonde as almost to be white, and his eyes, currently narrowed between amusement and concentration, were calculating, coldly intelligent and bright blue.

He wore no cloak, only black trousers, a crisp white shirt and black silk waistcoat, covered by a long black leather coat. There was a sword slung at his side, and a pistol in his hand. 

The passenger's eyes slid towards the driver's body. There was a gaping hole in his chest. The passenger closed his eyes and swallowed hard. 

* * * * *


	3. Reuniting, Hanging

A/N: Ok, at the end of this chapter the writing becomes repetitive and confusing. This is on purpose, as it is supposed to show how Dalton is feeling. Just so you know, ;-)

****

Willow and Buffy were sitting in the dining cabin, glancing around in vain for any sign of Xander. They had seen him briefly only three times, not counting the time Willow saw him the first morning, and he was always either busy working or making googly-eyes at Anya, the cook's daughter. 

"Now," Willow whispered, her eyes darting towards the kitchen, getting ready to run. Buffy rolled her eyes. 

"I think they'll let us in if we ask, Will," She smiled. Willow frowned.

"Spoilsport," she huffed. Buffy laughed and Oz gave a small smile, one of his greatest facial expressions. The two girls got up and headed towards the kitchen. 

"Excuse me ladies," the head waiter on board nodded to them, stopping them at the kitchen doors. "Can I help you?" 

Buffy and Willow looked at each other. Then Buffy cleared her throat importantly and put on her most superior voice.

"Yes, we'd like to know whether Alexander Harris could join us for dinner? We understand he's working in the kitchen, but perhaps he could take his meal out here with us instead of in there?" She asked. The man blinked and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I'll send him out immediately, ladies," The maitre-de swept off into the kitchen, and Buffy and Willow returned to their seats. A moment later, Xander appeared, and grinning widely, made his way to their table. Buffy and Willow both jumped up to embrace him tightly.

"Erm, girls…" Xander's voice came out choked. "I know I'm irresistible, but do you think you could let me breath?" He gasped. Both girls let him go, and laughed. Xander turned to Oz.

"Do we hug?"

"I think we're too manly," Oz returned with his characteristic stoic frown. They both smiled and Xander sat down. 

"So," Buffy began. "What are you doing here? How did you get on board? We thought we weren't going to see you until we returned!" 

Xander grinned and leant forward conspiratorially. 

"I know some of the crew, and they introduced me to the first mate. He got me a gig working here in the kitchens, and if it works out I may stay on and get a job working on deck," He sat back. The girls shared a pleased and tolerant expression. Xander always had trouble holding down a job. 

"So you won't be coming to London with us?" Willow broke in. Xander shrugged.

"Maybe, if it doesn't work out on the ship. But there's one other thing…" He looked down at his plate. Buffy and Willow exchanged a look. 

"And that is…?" Buffy prompted, grinning slyly .

"It's just…I met this girl," He said, fiddling with his napkin while his face flamed. 

"Ah yes, the amazing Anya," Buffy caught his eye. "I've seen her around the ship." She paused, letting Xander sweat. "She's lovely," She finished, and watched as a smile of relief spread across Xander's features. 

"Yeah," He grinned. "Yeah, she is." I'd like you to meet her, and then maybe we could decide what to do together," he looked up hopefully. Willow smiled kindly.

"Sure, Xand," She assured him. 

And dinner progressed, with the four friends making plans for when the arrived in England, a week from now. 

****

Three days after the death of a man and his driver on the London Road, a man was arrested in a tavern outside London. He was brought before the justices under the charges of assisting in robbery and murder and was known only as Dalton.

" You are accused of these very serious charges, and of being a member of the highway gang of William the Bloody, also known as Spike. What say you?" The judge asked. 

Dalton whimpered. He struggled to breath as his mind raced, debating what to do. 

"I-I…I beg of you, your mercifulness….I swear, I-I-I am not a h-h-highwayman," He began. The judge leaned over his platform. Dalton felt the ropes bit harder into his wrists and fought the urge to cry out. He tried to begin again, but the guards were closing in on him, and he felt the room swirl.

"P-Please your honour, y-y-your graciousness, I swear to you, I did not k-k-ill that man, I-I…" The words would not come. Could he do it, deny everything? Or should he tell the truth, the shameful, shameful truth, for which he might well hang? 

But how could they possibly understand the fear that Spike inspired when you met him face to face? How could he explain that it was not possible to stand against him? 

Dalton was only a scholar, no murderer or thief. Just an everyday well-educated man, with a brilliant mind, no family and precious few friends. He had gone along with William the Bloody because he was weak, and Spike was strong, and because he was afraid for his life. He had never hurt a soul, and simply wasn't capable of stealing. It was against his principles. 

But he had been there. He had been part of the gang, he had worked out which carriages came when, whether they would be rich or poor, useless or valuable. He had bee part of it, he had, he had. 

"I have n-n-never k-k-killed anyone in my life, I am only a man, it _wasn't me,_" He begged. He had been a part of it. 

"I did not st-st-steal anything, I am a scholar, an educated man, y-y-your honour, y-y-your great and merciful gentleness, I promise, I swear.." They were closing in on him, they were stepping closer, he had been a part of it and they knew, they knew, he was sure of it.

"I WAS NOT PART OF WILLIAM THE BLOODY'S GANG!" Dalton screamed finally, his voice ringing out through the courtroom. Oh but he was a part of it, and he kept screaming, denying everything, laying down his life to God, swearing by everything he could lay eyes one.

He was a part of it and his conscience came crashing down on him and he fell to his knees, and he screamed again and again as they dragged him away.

He was screaming the next morning as they hauled him up the steps to the newly erected scaffold in the town square, and he screamed one final time to the waiting crowd of every townsperson there as they slipped the noose about his neck. 

And then Dalton saw a familiar figure at the back of crowd. The man who he was denying, the man who had ruined his life. He was smiling faintly, and Dalton's scream caught in his throat and he coughed, his voice dying. He looked again and the man was gone, but Dalton barely had time to sigh with relief when the trapdoor on which he stood dropped away, and the rope came taut, crushing his windpipe and stealing his breath.

Any scream Dalton might have let out was completely stifled by the incredible roar of approval from the crowd, and as the sound continued, a man with white-blonde hair and bright, penetrating blue eyes made his way out of the city, wearing a cloak so as not to be recognised, for he was a wanted man. 


	4. Betraying

****

A/N: Alright everyone, think of Spike as early season two here; really badass Everyone's scared of him and he's really cool, right? Lol.

"I've grown attached to it, that's all." Buffy said, sighing. Willow tugged gently on her arm.

"I know Buff, but you have to put it behind you and move on," she coaxed. Buffy felt her eyes brimming with tears. 

"It's just….It was such an important part of my life for such a long time!" She half-sobbed, about to break down. 

"What? Buffy, I know we were on the boat for a quite a few weeks but…it's just a boat," Xander said incredulously. He stood behind the two girls, arm-in-arm with Anya. He had decided to go with them to London after all, after hearing he would not be promoted out of the kitchen any time soon. To his surprise and delight, Anya had decided to come with him, arranging to meet her father at the end of the summer when the ship returned to the port it was now pulling out of. 

Buffy shot Xander an embarrassed look and hurried to pick up her suitcases and hail a coach. This was no easy task as Buffy had more suitcases than any of them, and carrying them all in one hand was just not possible. 

After finally loading everyone's luggage into the carriage, Oz handed the driver the address of an inn Buffy's father had recommended they stay at for the night, and as they trundled along, they laughed and talked together of the coming summer. 

At first, Anya held herself apart from the others, despite Xander's attempts to draw her into the conversation. Unlike him, she was unused to spending time in the company of richer folk, and felt out of place, assuming they would look on her only as a servant. However, the more she observed Xander's easy manner with these two fine ladies and handsome gentleman, the more she realised they really were genuinely friendly and interested in her, and she by the time they arrived at the inn she was chatting and laughing with Willow and Buffy as thought they had been friends for years.

Although surprised by Anya's somewhat _direct_ manner (she had come straight out with several statements to do with young gentlemen that were enough to make even stoic Oz blush and turn away), Buffy found herself drawn to the girl and it was easy to see what a perfect match she made for Xander. Willow agreed, and when Buffy fell asleep that night she really did feel that things were looking up for her trip abroad. 

But there was one remaining thought nagging her mind. All night, Buffy had somehow felt like a fifth wheel. Willow and Oz, Xander and Anya…and Buffy. And what made matters worse was the she was supposed to be finding a husband on this trip! This was bad news because she could either marry a nice gentleman, relieve the feeling of being left out but be burdened for the rest of her life with a boring man and be forced to admit her father was right, or…Or what? Or she could follow her principles and beliefs, and wait for love to find her…

Buffy snorted into her pillow, wondering where she was getting this rubbish. It was just the excitement getting to her, she reasoned. She was never normally this romantic and wistful. She rolled over and began to snore. 

****

Early the next morning, Buffy was awakened by a shaft of sunlight hitting her directly in the eyes. Groaning, she rolled over to see Willow's bed already empty and neatly made. 

That didn't mean she was late, she reasoned as she hopped around the room pulling up her stockings. Just because Willow was out of bed doesn't mean anyone else was…

Buffy arrived downstairs ten minutes later to find everyone else up and out of bed, sitting around the breakfast table. 

"What time is it?" She asked Oz, silently praying it was not past ten o'clock, the time when they had hoped to get a carriage from the inn into London .Oz reached inside his waistcoat and withdrew a gold pocket watch. 

"Quarter to twelve," he said. Buffy groaned softly. 

"I'm so sorry for being late," She apologised. "We were supposed to take a carriage at ten, weren't we? Why didn't you wake me, Will?" 

Willow responded with a dismissive wave, although this might have been because her mouth was full with breakfast. When she swallowed, she explained.

"The inn didn't have a spare coach until later," She said. "It seemed a pity to wake you. After all, you looked so adorable hugging your pillow so tightly like that. Dreaming of Angel?" She teased, and avoided Buffy's half-hearted swat. 

Anya looked interested.

"Who is this Angel? Is he handsome? Does he supply you with orgasms, Buffy?" Anya asked. Buffy almost dropped her spoon in reply, and stared at Anya in disbelief while her cheeks flamed. Anya looked back at her calmly, apparently not realising the outrageousness of what she had said. Willow was trying very hard not to laugh. 

"Yeah Buffy," the redhead asked slyly. "Does he?"

"I…erm…no, no, not at all in fact. He's just, he's…erm, he's a m-man I know, but we're not, no, not in any way, he's not...erm.." Buffy trailed off miserably. The whole table was laughing by now and Buffy buried her face in her hands. 

So the morning resumed. 

About two hours later, the group were informed they was a coach loaded with their luggage ready to take them to London. Surprised, Buffy inquired as to who had taken it upon themselves to load up the carriage. 

"If you'll excuse me ma'am," A male voice said behind her. "That was me." 

Buffy turned around and her eyes met with a tall, broad man who smiled down at her. 

"And you are?" She asked, smiling in spite of herself. He was fairly handsome after all. 

"Oh, I've forgotten to introduce myself, I'm Riley Finn," He took her hand. "I work here. I came over from my home in Iowa to make my fortune. As you can see, I'm working on that," He gestured to his working clothes, about as plain as Xander's. Buffy laughed and introduced herself. Riley took this as a good sign and continued the conversation. 

"So, you and your friends are heading to London? Where are you staying?"

"At the Wyndam-Pryce mansion. Have you heard of it?" She asked. Riley whistled and nodded his head. 

"Everyone's heard of it," he informed her. "The Wyndam-Pryce's are one of the richest families in these parts. You should have a good time with them. They are famous for the parties they have," He added seeing her looking puzzled when he informed her she would have a good time. Buffy grinned and they continued to talk as Riley escorted her outside to the waiting carriage and her friends. 

"Well, Riley Finn, it's been my pleasure," Buffy offered her hand again. Riley took it and was about to lift it to his lips when he saw the death-glare Xander was shooting him. He hastily shook it instead and shut the carriage door behind Buffy, standing back as they drove away. 

He shook his head as they moved off out of sight. Buffy…yeah, he liked her. Too bad he'd never see her again. Too bad he couldn't get rich quick. Not that he wasn't trying. Yeah, Riley had a couple of jobs going that kept him fairly well, until he made his fortune. 

Unfortunately, one of Riley's jobs was turning out to be not as temporary as he'd first hoped. He was acting as an informant, and he was starting to get the feeling that he was slowly sinking in quicksand.

Turning to go back in, he met his two friends Forrest and Graham face to face. 

"One for Spike?" Forrest asked, raising an eyebrow. Riley swallowed hard. 

"I don't think so, not this one," he said. Forrest raised an eyebrow. 

"Why not? They were rich, weren't they? Where were the going?"

"The Wyndam-Pryce estate," He muttered. Forrest whistled. 

"And you don't think Spike is going to be happy with someone that rich?" He asked. Riley stood up straighter. 

"It's not that." he said. "It's just, I guess…I guess I like her," he burst out finally. Forrest shook his head. 

"Come on Riley, just this last one," Graham chimed in. "Then we'll have enough to get to London and stay there for a while."

Disgusted with his own weakness, Riley realised his defences were already crumbling. Just this last one…

"Alright." he agreed. His scruples screamed. "Get the horses. We'll have to move fast if we're going to overtake the coach and get word to Spike in time for him to lay the ambush." His friends nodded, and Riley forced the image of Buffy's fresh-faced smile from his mind. He had to look after himself. It was only fair. 

Another image floated to his mind. Buffy staring into the barrel of Spike's pistol. 

Riley ran to be sick. 

****


	5. Planning, Jinxing

****

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating, everyone. I've had real life to contend 

with as well as the Buffyverse, which I seem to live in most of the time.

I have a couple of things to say- First, a MAJOR 'Thank You!' to 

everyone who has been so wonderful and reviewed with encouragement

and advice. 

****

Thanks to: Invisible Sun, BunnyKat, Professor Weasley, Cordy, Sparky, fashiongrrl, idontknow, la, Rachel, basketball-slayer and ginmar. You are all my very favourite people in the world! 

To answer a few questions:

Cordy-I may try to work Tara into it, but as I am so mad about Oz and love 

him and Willow to bits, it may be difficult.

****

BunnyKat and** Professor Weasley**- B/R??? _B/R???? _Are you nuts? I don't like Riley either, but I wanted him to be a betrayer like in BtVS, rather than evil. He's not cool enough to be evil. This is S/B all the way, baby! 

****

WARNING: This chapter contains swearing. Not much, but this is rated PG-13, so don't say I didn't warn you.

__

****

Riley, Graham and Forrest overtook Buffy's coach roughly half an hour after the gang had left the inn. They pounded past on a side road at full tilt as Buffy and her friends continued along the main road at a fairly leisurely pace, and kept going until they were surrounded on all sides by tall, intimidating trees. 

Riley, in the lead, slowed his pace and the others followed suit. He licked his dry lips nervously as he came to a halt, the surrounding area silent and hostile. He swallowed hard, looking all around him through the thick undergrowth. 

He parted his lips and drew in a breath preparing to whistle, a signal he had used many a time before now. 

The piercing sound echoed eerily around the three men, and the expressions of all three betrayed their unease. They still had no idea how Spike heard the sound when he could be miles away, in any part of the forest. 

There was a soft whispering breathing through the leaves all around the trio of waiting men. Their horses picked up on the tension and sensing fear, became nervous and would not remain still. Graham patted his horses neck soothingly, but his hand was shaking. 

"Do it again," Forrest said gruffly. Riley licked his lips and tried again. This time, there was a definite movement through the trees and as the three men peered towards it, a voice spoke out from behind them. 

"Looking for me, boys?" Spike was standing in the clearing, his sword in his hand and a deceptive smile on his face. 

Riley whirled his horse around to face him. Spike was still waiting for an answer. 

"Yeah," He muttered, almost incomprehensively. Spike did not question him further though. He swung his gaze to Graham and Forrest, then back to Riley. Then he waited. 

Riley's throat was tight and dry. 

"There's a coach coming."

Spike raised an eyebrow, as one might do when regarding something with a fleeting, mild interest. Riley continued hurriedly. 

"Five passengers and the driver. Three are rich." 

"How rich?" Spike shot back at him, so quickly he barely had time to register the question. Riley paused. Now was his chance. He could say they were fairly rich, but not that well off, not enough to spark Spike's interest. He could deal with Forrest and Graham later, and save Buffy now. He could-

"They're heading to the Wyndam-Pryce Estate," He blurted out, staring at the floor. When he looked back up, Spike's mouth was curling up at the corners, into a genuinely stunning smile. When he smiled, William the Bloody could be mistaken for a gentleman, a man of honour, even a choirboy. But a closer look into his bright blue eyes would only serve to prove this as a man who would never go near a church, unless it was to burn it down. 

Spike shook his head, laughing softly and drew a cigarette he had rolled earlier from his pocket. He put it to his lips and lit it, and when he looked up, the impression he gave was now one of something more friendly . 

"How long till they get to Rollingate Hill?" he asked. Riley, busy looking intently at the leaf-covered ground, pretended he couldn't hear, and didn't answer. Forrest glanced at him, and spoke up instead. 

"Not for another couple of hours. They're going pretty even," He said.

Spike nodded, more to himself than to the others. Forrest felt a glow of self-satisfaction well up in him. It wasn't often he took the lead instead of Riley. He couldn't resist speaking up again. 

"You've got time,". It was the wrong thing to say.

"I'll be the fucking judge of that," Spike snapped, his smile gone, a scowl firmly in place. Spike did _not _like people trying to tell him how to do his job. He shot a glare at Forrest, who redirected his fearful gaze to the forest floor. 

The was a long pause. They made a strange picture; three tall, strong young men on horseback cowering before one relatively average-height, slim man on foot. Silence reigned. 

Eventually, Spike sighed and drew cigarette away from his mouth. 

"Look, all I want to know is, are they worth me riding like hell to set up an ambush? It's a risky time to rob someone, in broad daylight. They're rich, ok, but only three out of five. Is that enough?" He asked, his brow creasing. 

Then-

"She's beautiful," Riley said, softly. So softly Spike only just caught it. But he did, all the same. And he burst out laughing. 

Riley looked up angrily. The tension had passed and Spike was now almost bent double with laughter. To his extreme and lasting annoyance, Forrest was also sniggering and trying to mask it by coughing. Graham remained, as ever, passive and blank. 

"What?" Riley demanded. "She is! She's a great girl too, I liked her-" No sooner the words were out of his mouth then he regretted them. This was what Spike had been looking for, a reason beyond business to go after these rich young travellers. Now he had it-not only a beautiful girl, but it would piss Riley off too. 

Spike was not one who was in it only for money, although that was pretty much all his job consisted of. Excitement was needed to liven things up, and Riley had been boring Spike for a while now. To annoy him and see him pissed off was enough reason for Spike to carry through the robbery. 

"All right, you've convinced me. I'll be waiting for them." Spike grinned widely, and Riley turned away in disgust. 

"Come on," he muttered to his companions. They began to nudge the horses away, when Spike called after them.

"Finn!"

Riley stopped and turned in the saddle. 

"Yeah?" he asked. Spike gave him a hard look.

"You're not going to need to give me any more warnings. I think I'll manage without you. Don't come back." He said. Riley was about to turn away when Spike raised his voice one more time.

"Oh, and if in the unlikely case of you being disloyal to me, you might perhaps harbour some secret thought of going to the authorities and telling them everything, you might want to remember this; you were an informant, Finn. If I went down for any reason, I'd take you and everyone else with me. You could hang for what you've done."

And then Spike melted into the foliage and disappeared entirely from view. Pale and visibly shaken, Riley galloped the entire way home, urging his horse as fast as it could go. 

****

About an hour and a half later, Buffy's coach stopped for Xander to go haring into the undergrowth, to relieve himself yet again. 

"Hurry up! The driver called after him. " This is the fifth time! I'd rather be back at the inn by tonight!" The gang all laughed along with him. He had been excellent company on the drive. Drivers did not usually spend their time talking to their passengers, but as proven by Willow, Buffy and Oz's friendship with Xander and Anya, this group of young adults did not tend to observe the rigid rules of the class system.

As the laughter came to an end, the driver's expression turned serious. 

" Joking aside, it ain't pleasant to be on these roads at night. Even during the day you've got to be on your guard. Thieves, all sorts. William the Bloody's about, they say. Working these very roads." 

Buffy frowned, scrunching her nose. 

"William the Bloody? What kind of a name is that?" She asked. The driver shrugged. 

"Self-explanatory, ain't it?" He said. There was a beat while he let his words sink in before continuing. "William the Bloody is a highwayman. Spike, he's most often called these days. Dangerous, very dangerous. Got a gang, but he don't need 'em, not really. They're only their to save his skin if he ever got caught. He could blame it on them and get away scot-free, no trouble. Could talk his way out of anything, so they say."

Buffy, Willow, Oz and Anya reflected on this. 

"So they _say_," Anya stressed, breaking the silence. "He can't be that bad. He might not even _exist_," She continued sceptically. 

There would have been more on the subject, but Xander arrived back, and after demanding to be filled in on the gloomy topic, dismissed it with a wave of his hand. 

"As long as nothing bad happens between here and the Wyndam-Pryce estate, we'll be fine."

Willow and Buffy both turned to him, furious. 

"Are you out of your mind? What did you say that for? Now something bad is gonna happen!" Buffy said.

" What do you mean? Nothing is gonna happen," Xander said, shocked at their reaction, and trying to defend himself.

"Not until some dummy says 'As long as nothing bad happens…'" Willow threw in angrily.

"It's like the ultimate jinx!" Buffy said, glaring. 

"What were you thinking? Or were you even thinking at all?" Willow huffed, as she and Buffy both turned away in disgust at his apparent stupidity.   
"Well, you don't know," Xander muttered to himself. "Maybe this time will be different," He sulked. 

Two miles down the road, Spike waited in the wayside for their carriage to appear.

****

****

A/N: Don't kill me, please! Our heroes finally meet Spike next chappy! I promise you won't have long to wait! Also, Spike won't be as mean as he seems. Dashingly bad, yes, but not mean. This chapter was really hard to write as I was trying to set up suspense for the long-awaited meeting. I don't know whether I pulled it off, but bear with me until next chapter! Review as always, pretty please! 

. 


	6. Holding up

****

A/N: Sorry! *cringe*. Really, I am! I know I promised to keep updates regular but I have been forced to admit that real life is just that _tiny_ bit more important than the Buffyverse, and I've had all my exams, etc…but anyway, here you are, chapter six! Enjoy!

****

Oz was listening. He did that a lot, just listening to other people talk, not often feeling the need to volunteer his opinions. When he did speak, it was usually either short, quick-witted or to the point, but most of the time he just listened. Or daydreamed. He had a knack for coming back to earth just at the vital moment to not look stupid.

_Unlike some others_, he thought, remembering every time he had seen Buffy talking to Angel, and the far-away expression on her face while Angel looked confusedly back at her, inquiring as to whether she was quite alright. 

Just at that moment, Oz was listening to Xander and Anya bicker softly opposite him. The reason they were talking softly was because Willow was asleep and leaning on Oz's shoulder, and Buffy, although awake, was gazing so distantly out of the window that it would have seemed rude to disturb her. 

He was also listening to their driver, whose name was Ted, whistling an old ditty to himself, sounding not unlike one of the birds twittering brightly as the evening closed in, drawing a violet-navy curtain across the sky from the east. Willow had fallen asleep almost immediately after she and Buffy had told Xander off for jinxing them. Oz smiled fondly down at her, remembering a distant time when he had feared to lose her. 

He had missed her so much in the time they had been apart after she had betrayed him with Xander. That had been one of the hardest times he had ever gone through in his life. But he had forgiven the two of them, and they had returned the favour by succeeding in rebuilding his trust in them both. 

Lost in memories, Oz gradually realised that the sounds around him had changed. He glanced at Buffy, still staring dazedly out of the window, then at Xander and Anya, who had stopped bickering and were instead leaning against in each other in contented peace.

The driver was no longer whistling, and Willow was silent in sleep. There was a heavy, foreboding sort of silence descending on them, and Oz shifted uncomfortably in his seat, awakening Willow. 

"Whassamatter?" She asked groggily, sitting up. "What time is it? Is something wrong?" 

"No," Oz replied. "It's nothing,". He couldn't explain it, the odd sort of premonition he had felt. "It hasn't even been half an hour since you fell asleep," he told her, in response to her first question. Willow sat up straighter. 

"What's wrong?" She asked him, sensing his unease. Oz had a nose for trouble, seeing as he always tried to avoid it at all costs.

"It's nothing," Oz repeated softly, almost as though he hadn't even heard her. 

Xander shot them both a quizzical look. 

"What's all the worry about?" He asked good-naturedly. Willow shrugged and Oz didn't reply. Everything seemed fine now. It was just a moment of panic, he reasoned. Still, he couldn't quite shake the troubled feeling that had enveloped him. Almost as though something, or someone, was watching them…

"Don't be ridiculous," He murmured to himself. 

Buffy looked up with a start. 

"Who's being ridiculous?" She asked. 

"No one," Willow smiled, "Except you, dreaming away with the fairies," she teased, the sombre mood lifting. They continued to laugh and joke with each other, completely and blissfully unaware that just five minutes down the road Spike waited leisurely in the road with his sword at his side and his pistol in his hand, his scouts having followed the coach for a mile now. 

****

"Stand and deliver!" 

The shock of it rippled through the whole coach, leaving not one of them untouched. The coach pulled up suddenly with a sharp and shuddering motion, leaving them all suspended in silence, motionless, while they tried to make sense of what was happening. 

The voice that had called out was clear and bold, a daring ring to it echoing through the trees surrounding them on either side. Buffy was first to regain her wits. Stunned and uncomprehending, she called out to the driver.

"Ted? What's going on? Is this a joke?" She asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly, but with a steeled edge to it that demanded an answer. 

The was a moment's pause, then Ted spoke very softly from his box seat at the front of the carriage. 

"N-no miss, it's no joke…" he broke off, swallowing hard. "It…I-it's a highwayman, Miss," he finished. Buffy sat back, bewildered. 

"A highwayman?" she said, staring round at the others. 

"Yes, a bloody highwayman,". The voice rang out again, much closer this time. "Now that we've got all that cleared up," he continued, brisk and sarcastic, "I want you all to get out of the coach, keeping your hands where I can see them, understand?" the highwayman demanded imperiously. 

Buffy swallowed hard. The others were still all looking at her, the only one who had so far recovered her voice. Then Xander spoke up, addressing their assailant.

"What if we refuse? Could you make us all get out? There are plenty of strong young men in here, ready to break your neck!" He raised his voice, trying to deepen it and hoping his tactics of intimidation were working. 

Outside, Spike was staring in disbelief at the closed carriage door. Did they think he was stupid? That he would be afraid of any of them, even if he hadn't known there were only five of them and that three were girls. 

He shifted his pistol to his other hand, and drew his sword. Motioning Ted down from the box, he pressed the cold steel edge to the driver's neck. Ted swallowed, trying not to move his throat and accidentally kill himself. His face was pale and a cold sweat trailed down his neck. 

Spike turned his attention back to the closed coach door. 

"You will come out when I count to three," He ordered. 

"Oh yeah?" Came Xander's muffled but defiant tones. "Or what?" 

"Or," Spike continued pleasantly, "I kill your driver and then count to three again, and if that doesn't work then I _will_ come to get you," He threatened, his voice turning icy. 

Ted could not bear it. 

"Please, for God's sake he's got his sword at my neck!" he yelled, almost sobbing. 

"Ok, ok!" Came hasty tones from inside. "We'll come out,".

"I should bloody well hope so," Spike muttered to himself. Then aloud, he began counting. "One. Two. _THREE!"_

On three the door opened, and keeping their hands carefully in full view, each pf the five passengers climbed carefully out and found themselves face to face with Spike's pistol. He stood facing Ted, the sword still at the driver's neck, pointing his gun lazily at the five standing with their hands up. Then with a flick of his wrist he pushed Ted to stand with the others, and as the driver stumbled Oz and Xander both stepped forward to catch him.

Spike turned to face them for the first time. 

Buffy was unable to speak. The man standing before her inspired a fear inside her she did not think she had ever felt before. His languid, lean frame, the ease with which he handled murderous weapons and the splendid black horse standing further back on the road all seemed to scream warnings to her to stay away. However, the other thoughts were stealing unbidden into her mind. He was really rather attractive, she mused, amazed at herself. No, scratch that, he was gorgeous. 

_Not that that made the slightest bit of difference to me_, she scolded herself. 

His startlingly blue eyes met hers for a long moment, and she gazed defiantly back at him, refusing to look away first. A slow smile spread across his face, but Buffy refused to be intimidated. 

Next to her, she felt Willow trembling and she could hear Xander breathing more heavily than usual. Buffy realised it was up to her.

"What do you want from us?" She asked, determined to keep her voice clear and calm. 

In response, the highwayman grinned at her, cocking his head to one side.

"I would have thought that was obvious," He said, gesturing to the purse hanging at Oz's hip. Buffy felt a blush spread slowly across her cheeks. She paused a moment, then spoke up again. 

"Who are you?" She tried to keep her tone superior and unafraid, but this time she could not quite disguise the tremor in it. After all, he was outnumbered, but he probably had a gang hiding somewhere in the nearby trees, and he was armed. 

The highwayman kept his pistol trained on her lazily, even as he rested the point of his sword on the ground and leant on it conversationally. 

"William the Bloody at your service," He said, nodding his head courteously to them. "Or Spike, as I'm more commonly known."

There was a moments silence, broken only by a petrified whimper from Ted, whilst they took this in. 

"So you do exist then," Anya volunteered weakly. 

Spike laughed. It was a surprisingly rich, warm sound, Buffy reflected fleetingly. 

"Yes, I exist," Spike said, still smiling. "The question is, for how much longer will you?" 

****


End file.
